


His Control

by floofy_trashmates



Series: Kiss with a Fist [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 22:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2483903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floofy_trashmates/pseuds/floofy_trashmates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marluxia takes another visit to Vexen's laboratory, this time the scientist more willing to give Marluxia what he desires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Control

Cold, the laboratories were always so _cold_ but it never seemed to bother Vexen. Had anyone asked, they would find him genuinely surprised at the low temperature, the sharp coldness of anything metal, that sometimes it was even cold enough that one’s breath would fog in the air. No, the Academic never appeared to notice this. Why would he when Ice was his element?

It was on one such afternoon - or so they assumed at Castle Oblivion, since there was no sun or moon to make time’s passing - that he was paid a visit by the Graceful Assassin. Oh, there were plenty of other unkind names he had for the man, but none of them are applicable here so you can substitute your own. Vexen’s likely thought of all of them before you. Sucker.

"You’re up late."

“‘Late’ is relative here, Marluxia.” He didn’t turn, didn’t correct him any further than that. ‘Late’, because he hadn’t slept for two nights and Marluxia knew it. He always knew. Bastard. “What do you want?”

"What I always want." A single, gloved finger slid ever so slowly along the side of the table, blue eyes fixed on the Academic. "Take a guess. That’s what you’re _good_ at, isn’t it? Guessing?”

"It is called _educated inference_ , thank you very much.” Both of them knew how this game worked. Marluxia dropped in and pretended to be concerned, and Vexen would make no secret that he knew Marluxia was full of himself and there was no point to the game in the first place. 

It never failed to set him on edge though. In all the wrong ways. In all the _right_ ways. Damned hormones that weren’t held back and tempered by emotions. Damn Marluxia and damn Xemnas for sending them to this desolate place in the middle of nowhere.

But mostly damn Marluxia. Yes. That was much easier.

"And just what have you inferred, hmm?"

The silken voice was at his ear now, warm breath - _warm_ , always so tormentingly warm - teasing at the skin, stirring his hair.

"That you will take what you want and leave without another word as you always do." His own voice stayed level. Mostly. Not really. Not at all, there was no point trying to hide the unsteady note.

A chuckle was the only response at first, soft lips railing along the curve of Vexen’s neck, teasingly light, feather-soft. Petal-soft. _Petal-soft_ \- Vexen’s mind scoffed at that. But really, it was Marluxia’s fault for being so feminine. Pink hair. The pretty porcelain skin. And yet, that firm, warm, leather-clad body pressed to his back was all male. Lean, graceful muscle after muscle. The man was lethal without trying. And he was trying now, _damn him_.

"Would you hurry up and get it ov—"

“ _Sh_ _h_.” Marluxia knew how much it irritated Vexen to be interrupted. But it was so fun, hearing the protest sputter and die with a nip to what would have been a pulse-point had the Academic possessed a beating heart. “Patience, old man. You should know about that.”

”’ _Old man_ ’?!” Vexen shoved backwards but it was embarrassing how easily Marluxia moved them, using the weight advantage and slamming the Academic back onto the table - a cleared one, thank hearts, so the only damage was going to be a bruised spine later - and kept him pinned. “You arrogant, vain, noxious lit—”

"Oh, stop talking already." A vine was summoned and wrapped around Vexen’s head, gagging his mouth and causing the most _wonderful_ contortion to the bony face, eyes flaring, a muscle in the cheek twitching. “You look good from this angle,” Marluxia added, almost in a musing tone, blue eyes roaming appreciatively up and down. “You look better on your knees but you aren’t that good with your mouth. You’ve never gotten much better either. A shame.” His fingers wandered through blonde hair, messy now from the brief scuffle. “You have the perfect hair for pulling.”

Ice coated the vine and shattered it. Vexen drew in a breath before speaking, and when he did it was only to say, “Hurry up. We both know this isn’t about my level of patience. Take what you want and get out, I have better things to do than listen to you prattle on.”

"So pushy." It was nearly a purr. The zipper of the Academic’s coat was pulled down, no more hint of teasing in the movement, the coat’s chain deftly unhooked. "Maybe I should keep you gagged again. If I recall, you enjoyed it so much."

Vexen said nothing. Admitting how uncomfortable it had been with a vine stuffed down his throat, leaving him unable to breath properly had been its own unique torture and if Marluxia suspected that, he’d do it every time. Eurgh. The vine had tasted like ammonia too.

He squirmed though, when he felt Marluxia’s hand wander lower. There was no hiding the obvious arousal now but there was a small amount of comfort from Marluxia’s matched reaction - only felt with how close the two of them were pressed. Well. Maybe not _small_ comfort. After all, about the only good thing Marluxia could say about himself was that he was well-endowed. Moderately so.

"Eager already?" Of course Marluxia was still going to tease. The bastard couldn’t resist it, lauding his power, his _dominance_. His control. A definite superiority complex. “Poor Vexen. Always down here in these labs, _alone_ … It’s almost a wonder that you don’t create a clone to keep yourself company. … No, don’t answer that. I don’t need to know, nor do I possess the ability to care either way.”

"Good. I wasn’t going to answer in the first place." Another squirm as the fingers brushed lower still, back up, then down, up and down over the front of his pants and along the insides of his thighs, forcing his legs to spread if only to stop the ticklish sensations. The spreading of legs prompted Marluxia to grab a leg and hook it around his hips.

Then he was lowering himself down, resting their chests together, soft hair framing his face and the tips teasing across Vexen’s face. _Damn_ him. The scent of those damned roses was just subtle enough so as not to be cloying but in such close proximity, it was impossible to ignore.

Vexen’s hands were already in that hair to yank Marluxia down into a kiss, rough, needy, need _ing_. The hand gripping his thigh gripped tighter, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise through the thin, flexible leather, breaking the kiss long enough to remove the glove of his other hand with his teeth - and then the bare hand was between them, in his underwear, _grasping, stroking_ oh dear _hearts_ —

"I hate you I hate you I _hate you_ —”

"I hate you too." Fond now, Marluxia was sounding fond, of all things, as he stroked. Slow, teasing, but at least he knew what he was doing. There were smooth callouses on that palm, from the years of wielding the scythe and training. "You have no idea how beautiful you are when you’re underneath me."

"Technically I am pinned to a table, not completely underneath you." Vexen’s hands had moved to Marluxia’s back and ice sprouted from the tips of his fingers, sharp little claws to dig into the leather, through it and into the _skin_ and it was worth it to hear that surprised gasp. “Like that, do you?”

"You know I do," Marluxia growled, pulling his hand out to grind their hips roughly, placing an equally rough bite to he hollow of Vexen’s throat. "You owe me a coat."

"I owe you a lot more than a coat, you imbecile." How easy it would be to freeze him right now and shatter him. Roll them into the shelf of highly volatile chemicals, or even summon Frozen Pride and stab a spike through Marluxia’s head —

\- but no, he was moving, _moving_ , sweet hearts, and even with their pants still on, Marluxia’s coat still in the way too, it was … not perfect, but close enough to effectively fog Vexen’s mind and prevent any coherent thoughts of vicious attack. But that coat, curse that coat. The claws were lengthened and Vexen tore at the leather again, again, _again_ , leaving the back of it a shredded mess and scratches on the pale skin, forcing more of those delicious _gasps_ from Marluxia.

The only time he ever sounded vulnerable was in these moments, exposed enough to injure and let himself feel pleasure, even if it was purely physical. They didn’t need emotions to enjoy this.

It still wasn’t enough though. The icy claws trailed down, flicking the bottom of the coat up so Vexen could slide his hands under. No harm in groping, kneading at the firm muscles of Marluxia’s ass, smirking at the breathy hisses. “Oh, does that _hurt_?” the blonde hissed back. “Good.” He shredded the pants away, tattered black leather in a haphazard pile on the floor around them. It wasn’t as if they had a shortage of black clothing, there was nothing to worry about.

Marluxia snarled and pulled back, removing what was left of his coat. With the rough undressing, all he was left in were his boots and underwear, black as well. “Impatient _ass_ , you ruin my clothes every time.”

"Anyone else would learn their lesson and — yes, there — not come b-back, idiot."

"Did I say you could… talk back to me?"

"Who is number IV and who is XI of this Organization?"

"Who is currently pinned to a table with his penis so hard it’s affecting his ability to think at his normal level of so-called brilliance?"

"…….. you did not just insult my intelligence while you’re trying to use your hand to make me orgasm."

"I did." Marluxia smirked down at him and reached into Vexen’s pants to squeeze at the growing erection. "Do you want to change ‘trying’ to ‘succeeding’, Vexen?" He didn’t give him the opportunity to respond, continuing the strokes and squeezes after pulling the pants down and tearing the underwear away. "Or are you too busy enjoying being at someone else’s mercy?"

"You don’t — have any mercy, you _p-… -ig_ — ” That he could reply at all was probably a small miracle, but Vexen was shuddering, back arching, ice-sharpened nails raking at Marluxia’s back, silent encouragement for more, more, _more_.

Marluxia didn’t grace that with a verbal reply beyond a snarl, grinding their hips once more, adjusting his hand to stroke both of their erections together, the friction making Vexen shudder again and cling tightly, leg hooking securely around Marluxia’s waist, his other foot balanced on the floor. Hooray for long legs, this was one instance where they were oh so useful and allowed him to move against Marluxia for more of that wonderful friction.

There had been times where Marluxia had stopped now, had left Vexen alone in the cold laboratory, muddled and needy. This was not one of those times, made obvious by the fact that Marluxia wasn’t stopping and the Assassin was looking incredibly _un_ -Graceful right now, teeth gritted, hair beyond its usual messy arrangement, and those strong fingers were still digging bruisingly tight into Vexen’s thigh. If only the others could see Marluxia looking so weak —

— _strong, never as strong as when they’re like this, skin on skin and panting gasping, desperate_ —

— and it would be so easy, so damn _easy_ to kill him now. He’d never see it coming.

But Vexen could only writhe, gasping when Marluxia squeezed again and gave a long, slow stroke, chuckling breathlessly as Vexen’s eyes widened, savouring the feeling of stomach muscles tightening against his own. Close. So close, the release was just out of reach and then Marluxia was groaning, lurching down to sink his teeth into the side of Vexen’s neck as if trying to muffle the desperate moan as he came.

It was enough, more than enough and Vexen’s back arched, body remaining tense except for his legs, trembling as he raked harshly at Marluxia’s back again. Thank hearts the orgasm hadn’t been delayed this time. Last time it had been painful, this time it was only bliss, pure, _heated pleasure_.

So his neck stung from Marluxia’s bite. It didn’t matter; the Assassin’s face was still buried there, panting. His hips ached from the strained bucking, his thigh was stinging from Marluxia’s nails digging into the muscle, and Vexen was panting too.

He only got a few precious moments to enjoy the tingling warmth before Marluxia stirred and drew away. He summoned vines to clean his hand off, summoned a dusk to fetch him clean clothing. Not once did he look at the scientist still sprawled bonelessly over the tabletop.

Only once fully dressed and neat once more did Marluxia return his attention to Vexen, and it was to smirk, a smug tilt of pretty lips. “Mm, you do look good from this angle.”

Vexen gave him an impression of a disgusted look, managing to push himself up onto his hands, watching in silence, then, “What are you waiting for?”

"I don’t know." Marluxia hummed in thought, turning away. "Sleep well, Vexen."

"Choke on your pillow, you prat."


End file.
